I am young, in that middle ground between little girl and growing. There are new feelings and curiosities and explorations ... but still yet so very innocent, tender, naive. My whole life I have lived on praise and making daddy proud. That is why I tryso hard in school, getting good grades every time. My room is always spotless, picked up daily. I help with the dishes, the laundry ... all to hear the magic words...”Good Girl.” Just hearing them makes my whole body sparkle, mytummy tingle and flip, knowing that daddy is proud of me. It is everything to me. I never really get it trouble, it hurts my heart too much to know that I disappointed daddy.

Maybe it is a birthday, or maybe as a reward for good grades or something ... whatever it is it is a special occasion. So Daddy decides to take me out on a date, a real daddy-daughter one. It is a whole day occasion. We start early in the morning and go shopping for a dress, shoes, maybe even some jewelry, possibly even some new panties - something very classy, elegant, beautiful. We laugh, smile, joke, hold hands - all the wonderful things that daddies and daughters do before they get all grown up.

After that we do a small lunch and then daddy takes me to the salon. I get my hair done, fingernails, toenails, a body scrub ... maybe ... maybe even her first waxing (not that there is really anything to remove) - all to make her beautiful for daddy.

After all that daddy takes me out to dinner. Maybe he drives, maybe a black-car service. Not a limo, but towncar or something. He takes me to the fanciest place in town, the french place. I am so out of my element. A new dress that is just a hint too short, just the ever so slightest bit revealing, nothing lewd of course, classy and elegantly sexual. I hold daddy’s hand so tightly as we walk in, nervous. It is dark inside, rich and sensual, the low murmur of the patrons. I bite the corner of my lip, I do that when Im nervous ... I still do and squeeze his hand. He squeezes back soothingly as we walk to our table, dimly lit near the fire. We sit, across from each other.

Eventually I settle a bit, daddy ordering, because I cant read the menu ... its in French. Soon I am a normal little girl again...

So, we are eating and laughing. I am telling daddy all about school and my friends and everything, just like always. Daddy even lets me have just the tiniest sneaky sips of wine. He is NOT getting me drunk though, not even close.

At some point after dinner, before dessert, daddy looks at me and tells me ... he is not stern or forceful or anything, but in his fatherly way, tells me to go to the ladies room ... take ... take off my panties and ... and to bring them back to him. I just stare at him, stunned, shocked. He doesnt tell me again, just gives me a slight nod after about a minute. Nothing changes in his face or demeanor. He just goes on finishing his meal. I swallow, slowly stand up and walk to the ladies room. I dont know why ... why Im doing it, but I do, know that I should, know that I ... have to.

I get to the bathroom, use the potty and ... and do it. I take them off and ball them up tightly in my hand. I wash my hands quickly and hold them tight. I take a deep breath as I open the door. Instantly in my mind I see the entire restaurant turn, silence falling over as I walk out. I know that they know. They know what I have done. They know I am not wearing any panties, that my daddy told me to take them off. They cant and dont know ... but ... but I am convinced they do. I tremble as I walk back, feeling their prying eyes, knowing they can see ... see every bit of me.

I finally make it back to the table and sit, shaking. Daddy just calmly smiles at me, acting as if nothing strange is going on. My knuckles are white from clenching them so tightly, hiding them. As dessert comes and the server leaves, he simply holds out his hand. I know ... I know what he means. My little arm lifts up, placing my tiny hand in his and carefully, worriedly let go. My blush is evident on my face, bright red, the freckles on my nose and cheeks appearing brighter, I cant look at his eyes. He simply says “Good Girl” and takes them. My tummy flips, clenching deep inside me.

He takes them from me, gives me a tender, soft smile and places them in his pocket. I am still stunned, shy, embarrassed ... but something else too,

I dont know what, a warm tingling, sparkling ... deep in my core. Right before the waitress brings the check, he lays them neatly on the table, folded up so it looks like his napkin. As he places his credit card in the little black book, he tells the girl “La chatte va apprendre a se soumettre et a ronronner ce soir. S’il vous plait, joignez-vous à nous pour participer à son initiation au plaisir. He places my panties on top and closes the book. I let out a little squeak as I stiffen up again, my eyes widening, letting out a whispering “Daddyyy”. I dont know what he says, but I see the girl smile tenderly, and then nod. he sweetly, reassuringly smiles back, “everything is fine angel. Just a tip for her service tonight, for making this a very special evening for you.”

We get up to leave and I take daddy’s hand, sort of hiding behind him, still knowing that everyone can see and knows what is happening, very shyly. He doesn’t say anything, just holds my hand tenderly, calming my fears, protecting me. We get out to the car and climb in. After a few minutes he says again, not loudly, not whispering, just normal ... perhaps the driver hears...”Don’t wrinkle your dress by sitting on it, sweetheart.

Bare Bottom on the seat, please.” I can only say “y ... yes daddy” softly. I sit up, brush my dress up and place my bottom on the leather, a small gasp as the cool leather touches my skin. I can hear his smile beaming.